
■ 
HJHH 

iftAPMAN 



SZ 



m 




Class fSltt b 
Book ~ C$Af& 
Copyright^ '-VS? 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 



By the Same Author 

FOUR PLAYS FOR CHILDREN 

Small 12mo, cloth, 156 pp., $1.00 net 
(postage 10 cents) 

CONTENTS 

The Lost Prince The Hermits 

King Ithuriel Christmas in Leipsic 

Moffat, Yard & Co., Publishers 
SI East 17th St., New York 



THE 
MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

BY 

JOHN JAY CHAPMAN 



NEW YORK 
MOFFAT, YARD & CO. 

1908 



COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY JOHN JAY CHAPMAN 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR 
INCLUDING RIGHT OF STAGE PRODUCTION 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

OCT 24 1908 

Copyright Entry _, 
CLASS "T\ XXC, No. 

' ' COPY B. 



76 izlZ- 

♦ \C\ o 



D. B. UPDIKE, THE MERRYMOUNT PRESS, BOSTON 



SCENE 

The Castle of Minneberg 

Somewhere near the Ardennes and the Rhine 

in about the year 1120 

Act I 

Scene 1. A Room in the Castle 
Scene 2. The King's Chamber 
Scene 3. The Courtyard 

Act II 
Scene 1. The Queen's Chamber 
Scene 2. On the Ramparts. Afternoon 
Scene 3. The Same. Moonlight 

Act III 
Scene 1. A Room in the Castle 
Scene 2. The Banquet-Hall 



CHARACTERS 
King Sigmund. 
Wolfram, his son. 
Gaston, his adopted son. 
Pharamond, an old minstrel. 
Hincmar, doctor to the King. 
Prince iEGiDius, Knight of the Holy Roman Empire, special 

Commissioner of Justice. 
Brevarius and Arnolfo, doctors of law. 
Oswald, Captain of the Guard. 
Gerard, servant to Pharamond. 
Martin, servant to Hincmar. 
Hildebrand, an old soldier. 
Ephraim, an old servant. 
Diedrick and Hans, servants. 
Bernhard and Otto, peasants. 

Queen Margaret. 
Elfrida, niece to the Queen. 
Hedwig, an old servant of the Queen's. 
Hilda, a maid. 

Soldiers, Servants, Clerks, Officers of Justice, Court Attendants, 
and Peasants. 



ACT I 

SCENE FIRST 

A Room in the Castle 

Queen and Gaston. 

C^ueen. Be not surprised that I have sent for thee. 
Queens wear some jewelled sorrows in their heart 
More dear than those that glitter on their brow. 
Gaston, thou art my Wolfram's second self, 
And from his infancy hast been his friend. 
Tell me, what makes my son avoid my sight? 
This is his birthday ; yet he greets me not. 
I scarcely see him, but he slinks away 
Behind a barely civil "By your leave," 
Leaving a glance I do not like to name; 
But, should I meet it in another eye, 
I could but call it hatred. 

Gaston. Nay, dear madam, 

It is not hatred. 'T is a kind of mood 
Where many cloudy elements commingle; 
It is the anguish of deep-thoughted youth 
That swells in the pod. Thy Wolfram is a saint; 
But a young eagle too, all claws and beak. 
It frets him that the world must make a king 

[ i ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Of him, who counts himself but as a soul 

Pursuing truth. At times it angers him 

That your ambition should take sides with the world 

Against his soul. It greatly angers him 

To find himself impinioned in the flesh 

And not discorporate in the universe, 

A spirit merely. Half in jest I speak, 

Yet much in earnest. Youth is full of pain. 

Believe me, Wolfram loves your majesty. 

Another cause downcasts him : 

The long-continued illness of the king 

Doth shed a natural gloom about the court; 

And being sensitive, and very young, 

He catches some infection in the air. 

A change of air may cure him. Give me leave 

To take him for a month of careless travel. 

We shall be back before the lanes are green, 

And bring in summer with us when we come. 

Queen. It is too long. You must not leave the court ; 
I cannot want you for so long a time. 
You must not leave me. Truly, till you spoke 
I did not know I, too, was something touched. 
Tell me of the king. 

He has immured himself, and from his room 
He issues orders that disquiet me. 
[«] 



ACT FIRST 

Gaston. Have you not heard? The king dismisses 
all, 
Retaining Hincmar as his only friend. 
The rest, he says, conspire against his life. 

Queen. Hincmar, the learned doctor? 

Gaston. Doctor, madam! 

*T is a Bavarian astrologer, 
Who travelled hither counselled by the stars, 
Led by the fame of royal malady. 

Queen. Indeed, I do remember his arrival. 

Gaston. Yes, this intriguing adept travels here, 
Chimes his exact arrival with the stroke 
When sick men turn to magic in despair. 
Lifting a rod of personality 
Over a nature troubled to its depths, 
He makes himself the master. No man may 
Have audience except on his prescription. 

Queen. I fear the prince may find himself denied 
On his petition to absent himself, 
So close a vigilance begins to fall 
On every act and happening in the castle. 
Elfrida, my sweet niece, is turned away. 
Her zither in her hand. 

Gaston. Elfrida too? 

m 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Who with her music soothed his griefs to sleep, 

That he would send for her to comfort him. 
Queen. I found her sitting in the anteroom, 

Her heart and instrument alike unstrung, 

Weeping alone. This cannot be endured. 

Gaston, the prince and you must leave at once. 

Depart at eventide and secretly. 

Some fearful power begins to operate 

Which I have long awaited inwardly. 

The king's mind crumbles; and his towered strength 

Topples to ruin, while my Wolfram's eyes 

Glass the oncoming storm. 

Myself have naught to dread, though flesh and blood 

Dreads the unknown. This sickness of the king's 

Began ere I was married. He was then 

Upon the great Crusade, companioning 

Godfrey de Bouillon to the sepulchre. 

But dost thou know these things? 

Gaston. I know the king, in following a vow — 
Queen. A vow he ne'er fulfilled ! The messengers 

Announcing his succession to the throne 

Found him at Wittelsbach, and he returned 

To make our marriage; leaving, as they said, 

More than his vow behind. 

Gaston, we princes have few confidants. 
[4] 



ACT FIRST 
Dost thou know more? 

Gaston. Your majesty may guess 

That the affairs of kings are talked about, 
The love affairs not least. I give my thoughts 
No licence to pursue such gossiping. 

Queen. Gaston, what dost thou know? 

Gaston. I know there was 

A rumour that beclouded his return, 
Of some stray maid, or princess he had won, — 
Some say had married, — in the Orient. 

Queen. Never had married, Gaston ! — married never ! 
A Swabian peasant, or Bavarian girl, 
Whose name and claim deserved no memory, 
Save such as clings to a deserved regret 
For passing error. 

Gaston. It is well, my liege. 

Queen. And yet his conscience and his broken vow, 
The glory of his friends, who left their lives 
Along the Danube, or who brought them back 
Baptized in fame above the reach of death, 
Turned to his torture ; and in all the grief, 
A figure of forsaken womanhood 
Still held the virgin's place. Mark you, I speak 
Of things no mortal agony could draw 

[5] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

The mention of, nor ever has, either to him 
Or others, — things I saw, felt, lived, 
Year after year in this imprisoned place. 
Now is my husband dead, and I may speak, — 
Dead to all purpose. 

Gaston. Lady, what you say 

Raises a mirror in my memory, 
And wakes a sleeping serpent of suspicion. 
What if this doctor practise on the king 
Some ugly cunning, holding over him 
The knowledge of this early mystery ? 
What if, with drugs or charms, he terrorize 
To break the hinges of the kingly mind 
And get control of the castle? 'Tis a guess. 
More I '11 not call it, lest we run ahead 
And make the bed for sorrow. 

Queen. But this is horrible! 

Gaston. Madam, for all our sakes, control yourself. 
Speak not so loud. These mortised corridors 
Carry a sound and will not let it die. 
Whispers have echoed here, to be revoiced, 
After a thousand bouts, in cries of pain. 

Queen. But we must take some action ! 

Gaston. Act we must, 

[6] 



ACT FIRST 

But not upon the impulse. Think, dear madam; 

Against the undisclosed powers of evil, 

Action is impotence. We may be wrong, — 

We all are overstrained and querulous. 

And as for Wolfram's rudeness — 

Be with me, madam, when I meet him next; 

And if he show a peevish disposition, 

I'll find occasion to be frank with him. 

Walk in the courtyard half an hour from now ; 

It is a haunt he loves; I'll join you both. 

Queen. Indeed it is the dearest wish I own 
To come more near my son. I will attend you. 

Enter Ephraim and speaks to Gaston in dumb-show. 

Gaston (to Queen). Your majesty remembers that 
friend of the king's boyhood, Pharamond, who was 
bred up here in this castle and was to have been a 
warrior, but that nature, who had made him a poet, 
showed her hand, and he became a minstrel ? But all 
this was before your majesty's marriage, I think. 

Queen. Pharamond ! Why that name to me is a pic- 
ture of my husband's youth. I never saw him; and yet 
he is a part of my mind. 

Gaston. Well, madam, he has returned to greet us 
to-day. Some of your majesty's people met him in the 

[7] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

village and the old ones gave him a great welcome. I 
saw him singing to them. 

Queen. We will receive him at the birthday feast. 
Ephraim, bid them prepare a place for Pharamond. 



SCENE SECOND 

The King's Chamber 

The King seated, Hincmar standing'. 

Hixcmab,. I greatly fear he may prove one of them; 
And till our doubts are settled, 't is as well 
To watch him closely. 

King. Pharamond, a spy! 

He was the earliest, loving'st friend I had. 

Hincmar. I say not he is certainly a spy; 
But that his coming falls most strangely in 
With all the plot we know to be on foot 
Against your kingdom and the prince your son. 
Have we not found them for some months at work 
In Mainz, which is a hot-bed of cabal : 
A secret-scheming band of courtiers 
And politicians, heeled by men of law, 
Whose aim and purpose is — God save our souls! — 
To wrench this kingdom from its lawful line, 

[8] 



ACT FIRST 

And get it for themselves? They find a flaw 
Warping your prince's title, a disease 
Beclouding your clear mind; and both defects 
Are made the pretext for a regency. 
Your majesty has seen the proofs of this. 
Now, in the hour when we expect from Mainz 
Some emissary from our enemies, 
From Mainz there comes an early boyhood's friend 
(Who has not, be it said, shown much devotion 
During the years between) whose age and speech 
Make him the man our news anticipates, 
Predict him to a dot. I like it not. 

King. But what, good Hincmar, could he wish of me? 

Hincmar. Wish! Praise the Lord for such dear in- 
nocence ! 
Why, they need evidence to found their suit. 
They go to wrack in search of evidence 
Of your first marriage. 

King. Hincmar, there is none. 

Hincmar. There must be some; and they would fish 
it out, 
Using this Pharamond as a likely hook. 

King. Thou art my friend, and I have told thee all. 
For in the telling there was much relief; 

[9] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

And in tli* off-putting of my worldly cares 
On thy strong shoulders, infinite comfort, Hincmar. 
Yet are there thoughts that I have told thee not. 
Thou 'It not betray me? — ah, I know thou 'It not. 

Hincmar. What thoughts, my liege? I would not 
urge myself 
As a confessor to your majesty; 
Yet would not thwart a motion of your soul, 
Feeling it noble. Many griefs take flight 
Even in the telling. For my loyalty, 
If this be not established by the past, 
Protest were idle. Use me as you will. 

King. I know not if seclusion bring remorse, 
Or if remorse, seclusion ; but I know 
Some power is seeking me. I ward it off; 
Yet comes the knock and finds me powerless. 
Nightly I wake in terror, — find myself 
Standing in darkness on the parapet 
And calling Adelaide. She walks in me, 
Smiting the depths beneath the reach of sleep 
With old enchantment. Is the past not past, 
That the lost chapters of the soul return 
To cast a question on the actual? 

Hincmar. This does great credit to your highness' 
heart; 

[ 10] 



ACT FIRST 

Yet am I glad some trusty friend is by 

To guide you through the mazes of the world; 

For this is fantasy. 

King. Was the sin greater that I married her? — 
That on this marriage hinges all my thought, 
Drawing damnation from an act of virtue? 
Her gentleness demanded nothing of me, 
Her unreproachful nature made no claim; 
Yet now, with twenty years between the act, 
The reclamation of her silent grief 
O'ertakes my soul and grips it by the hand. 

Hincmar. Nay, nay, your highness takes too much 
to heart 
An ancient error; and I blame myself 
For having waked the anguish of a soul 
So tender. All is past and done, 
And, as you say, unprovable. 

King. I see a doubled presence in my house. 
Her figure mingles with the sequent years 
Of my o'erlapping marriage with the queen, 
And bids me claim her. Did we not stand up 
Before the altar in the pilgrims' church 
While the dawn broke o'er green Bavaria? 
Then did we kneel together by each shrine 
That leads the mountain peasant to the cross, 

[Hi 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Making our pilgrimage. Tis long ago; 
Yet it assails me, Hincmar, in the night. 

Hincmar. All you have said 
Raises my reverence for your highness" soul, 
Even to the pitch of worship. Yet I must 
Remind you that all this cannot be proved. 

King. Save by confession, Hincmar, — by confes- 
sion. 
Thou understandest not. The power within me 
Calls for a proclamation of my sin. 

Hincmar. A proclamation from a penitent king ! 
A public penance! — Stay, your majesty; 
Give me a moment to collect my thoughts. 
The maid is dead; the circumstance is past, 
Yet burns in the conscience. It will make you great, 
And sanctify the sickness of these years, 
Which dims your character before the world. 
A public penance ! T is a blessed thought. 
I think, your majesty, I may advise it; 
But give me time to think. 

King. Tis what we need: 

Time to be patient with our obstinate thoughts. 
The quietude you brought me saves my life. 
Yet do I need more air. Good friend, bethink you. 
Get me an hour or two beneath the stars. 
[ 12] 



ACT FIRST 

Hincmar. My very thought. To-night I '11 change 
the watch 
And leave the western ramp in solitude, 
Where you may walk and breathe your thoughts 

towards God 
As in an oratory. But we must observe 
Our regimen. 'T is almost five. 
The setting sun sheds peace across the world 
And bids you rest. I fear me I must have 
Your signature to Pharamond's arrest. 
T is but a line. {Places a paper on the table.) 

King. Dost thou assure me this is necessary? 

Hincmar. Not only so, my lord, but very wise. 
He shall be safely lodged, with no constraint 
Except some circumscription in his walks. 
Ajid all the household shall be satisfied. 
T is putting him where he can do no harm 
Till our suspicion vanish. 

{The King is bending over the paper reluctantly. 

Hincmar continues, aside:) 

This Pharamond 
Has somehow gained a knowledge of our plot 
And comes, my cipher says, to warn the king. 
It is a desperate action to arrest him, — 
But necessary. 

[13] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

{To King.) Yes, your highness, necessary. 
{King signs. Hincmar touches a bell. Enter Oswald. 
Hincmar places the paper in Oswald's hands and 
points to the signature, saying to Oswald:) 
His majesty desires that when I give 
The word you do obey it. 

[Oswald looks first at the paper and then towards 
the King; bows and exit. 

King. Thanks, good Hincmar; 

Thank you enough I cannot, for the zeal 
That you have shown herein and everywhere. 

Hincmar. To rest, good king ; and may God com- 
fort you. [Exit King. 
It must be by confession, since no proof 
Of this clandestine marriage can be had ; 
Though proofs are ample that a child was born, 
Of which the king knows nothing. Prove this marriage, 
And throw the kingdom into chancery : 
Establish a long quest to find the heir, 
Or prove him lost, and in the interim 
I to be regent. So the Archbishop promised; 
And I have means to hold him to his word. 



[ 14] 



ACT FIRST 

SCENE THIRD 
The Courtyard 

The Queen, Elfrida, Bernhardt Otto, and three or four 
Peasants and Peasant Women. Bernhard has a large 
bundle of MS. in his hand and Otto a big offering of 
flowers. 

Queen. I suppose, Elfrida, that it is to celebrate 
Wolfram's birthday that these good people have come. 

Elfrida. Yes, your majesty. Otto brings the first 
flowers of spring, and Bernhard the last fruits of his 
muse. I could not keep them out. 

Queen (to peasants). I thank you all, for myself 
and for the prince. 

Bernhard. Rough things, your majesty, but from 
the heart. It is only a sort of rhymed prophecy that 
came to me as I was lying abed. It is called "A Loyal 
Offering; or, The Humble Devotion of Many Hearts. 
Being some few Verses in Praise of a Great Heir to a 
Great Kingdom; and Signifying what may be Expected 
from" — 

Otto. You should never have put that part in. Who 
are you to teach the prince what he should be? 

Bernhard. Why, that is the very poetry of the 
whole, — the apotheose, — the praising and prophesying 
[ 15] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

part. But indeed the poem has two parts, your ma- 
jesty. When the opening part closes, the closing part 
opens, and then — 

Otto (to Elfridd). The flowers will wilt before he 
has finished, my lady. 

Queen. We will hear them immediately. And here 
comes the prince. 

Enter Wolfram. 
Wolfram, it is thy birthday ; and these good people 
have come with their offerings to grace the day. And 
I have other great news for thee. Pharamond, the old 
singer, has come to pay us a visit, — your father's friend 
Pharamond. 

Wolfram. There must always be singing. Good 
morning, mother. If you shut it off in the parlor, it 
will resort in a body to the kitchen. As for kings 
and queens, they have their pleasures too, — fighting 
and the killing of harmless animals; family pride 
and the pushing of boundaries. Perhaps, if we knew 
all, we should be glad there was singing somewhere. 
What say you, mother? 

Queen. Why, my son, I am glad. It is not given to 
man to be merry always; and yet must we welcome 
the singer. 

[16] 



ACT FIRST 

Wolfram, See now, mother, how custom rules you 
in all things. You would have me greet the minstrel 
because it is the part of a young prince to greet a 
minstrel. You would have me walk well, speak well, 
keep silence well, all for the part's sake and because 
the world expects it of us. I would to God you had 
such a son as I would have made for you, if I had had 
the commission. He should have been a model ass, 
mother, a perfect courtier. Because I am indifferent 
to the customs of this three-acre kingdom, to which 
I am heir, you must follow me with your eyes, and 
wonder over my behaviour. I would I could persuade 
you to leave this hatching out of me ; to forget, neg- 
lect, ignore, abandon me. See now, mother, I am a 
man : it is enough. 

During this speech Gaston has entered. 

Bernhardt. Shall I begin now, your majesties? It 
will take some few minutes; and I will pass lightly 
over the part which deals with past history, and so 
come quickly to the bloom of the poem — 

Otto. Hold your mouth, you loon ! Cannot you see 
their majesties are troubled? 

Wolfram. What is this mummery that you have 
planned to trap me with ? Otto, what is that stack of 

[ 17] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

flowers in your hands? Bernhard, who taught you to 
write? 

Elfrida. It is a birthday offering, cousin Wolfram. 
The queen has nothing to do with it. It is a posy and 
a poem from the villagers. 

Gasto7i (to Wolfram). Come, come, Wolfram; these 
are men and women. 

Wolfram. How did they know it was my birthday? 
And why should they make it ridiculous, — when it 
is merely sad? (To Otto, taking the flowers.) I will take 
the flowers for my grave. (To Bernhardt taking the 
MS.) And the poem — shall be buried with me. 

Bernhard. But it must be read aloud to be compre- 
hended, my lord — 

Wolfram (relenting). It shall be read aloud. (To 
villagers.) Meet me, all of you, at the village inn, and 
I will drink a cup of wine with you. (Gives bach the 
flowers and the MS.) I will read something aloud my- 
self; and, Bernhard, it shall be five times as foolish as 
this. Go; and my thanks to you all. [Exeunt villagers.] 
(To Queen.) Now, madam, what would you? 

Queen. I would nothing with you, my son; I did 
not mean to harass you. It was Gaston who told me 
of Pharamond. I spoke almost by rote; but I will say 

[18] 



ACT FIRST 

nothing. Your heart is kind, I know, except towards 
me. I must to my chamber. Elfrida, will you come 
with me? And, Gaston, at a later hour attend me. 

Gaston. I will, your majesty. 

[Exeunt Queen and Elfrida. 
{Aside.) Such intercourse 
Poisons the quickening blood within the lungs 
Ajid makes each breath we draw fresh agony. 
(To Wolfram.) Wolfram, I cannot tell how my beliefs 
May weigh with you; but on my life and soul, 
Your treatment of your mother gives me grief. 
What has she done that you should petrify, 
With unexplained unkindness, every act 
Done in her presence? And what lord are you 
That you should walk across another's soul 
As if your feet disdained the touch of it ? 
Oft have I wept a mother's early death, 
Who lost me ere my lips could speak her name; 
But since I see what suffering sons may cause, 
I count her blessed that she died so soon. 

Wolfram. What can an orphan know of mother's 
love ? 
To tell the truth I hardly know myself 
What thing it is that mutinies within 
Against the tedium of this dummy-life 
[ 19] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Which mother's love and courtly etiquette 
Mix for my portion. I am out of sorts 
With doing rigorous nothing. 

Gaston. Nothing to do ! 

I would I had thy kingdom for a day, 
I'd show thee what! See, Wolfram, I've my sword. 
I '11 hew my way to honour in this world. 
And could it balk me, think you, that a mother 
Loved me too much, or too distastefully? 

Wolfram. This woman loves me not, but as a cat 
Doth love her kitten, why? — for it is hers. 
My soul she loves not, and not understands, 
More than she loved or understood that man 
Whom her ambition ruined. It was she 
Who patched an ancient league to save her crown. 
Because her princedom touched our boundaries, 
They made a parchment marriage of the lands 
And of the royal lines. Something of late 
Breaks in my heart to see my father die. 
Ruined he was ere we had sight of him ; 
Ruined, yet splendid in his majesty, 
That cast the blame on no one but himself. 
Gaston, hast thou observed my father well? 

Gaston. Indeed, my lord, I think I have observed 

him. 

[20] 



ACT FIRST 

Wolfram. Ay, but not seen the fires of his soul, 
That smoulder and break out beneath his brows 
Across two decades of dishonoured life — 
Death, call it rather. 

Gaston. Nay, 't is no dishonour. 

Wolfram. What we do think dishonour is dishonour. 
He was a hero till she called him back, 
And were he lying now at Antioch, 
Would be a saint whose bones should cure disease. 

Gaston. Many returned from that great enterprise 
Who were not saints nor martyrs, and whose names 
Have, since that time, had little currency. 

Wolfram. But not like him, friend Gaston, not like 
him! 
Many there be in every enterprise 
Who come because the current sweeps them in ; 
But those on whom a high vocation calls 
Hear it in solitude, anteriorly. 

Gaston. How means your lordship ? 

Wolfram. Know'st thou of his vow ? 

Did he not stand before the throne of God, 
Alone and in the halo of his youth, 
Transpenetrated by the rays of vision 
That turned his very body into sight; 

[21 ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

And, as the fire from the Creator's hand 
Came down on his heart's altar, did he not 
Return it in the wafture of his vow? 

Gaston. No doubt he did, my lord. 

Wolfram. Hast thou considered, Gaston, that a 
vow, — 
Being a column of transparent force 
Set in the limbo betwixt God and man, 
And drawing its gyration from the sky, — 
When broken, lets a thousand tempests loose 
That rave forever, seeking the lost point, 
And wreck the soul with grieving? 

Gaston. Wolfram, truly, 

Thy words I understand not; but thy will 
Touches my inmost heart to tragedy. 

Wolfram. Ay, 't is the will I speak of. Turn we now 
From the celestial vigour of his youth, 
And view my father in the petulant gloom 
Of a damp sick-room, nursed by vulgar quacks, 
His mind and substance open to the sack 
Of animals that prey upon disease; 
Dying by inches, while assisting unfaith 
Prolongs a traffic in expedients 
That do not reach the spot. I stand alone. 
My mother's prayers glance upward ; but her hope 
[ 22 ] 



ACT FIRST 
Is aimed too near the earth. 

Gaston. What shall we do ? 

Wolfram. I know not what to do; 

But some controlling impulse must be followed 
Straight up to heaven. 'T is from the Absolute 
All absolution comes. O Gaston, wilt thou help, — 
If there be help to save us? Wilt thou swear, 
Even as he swore, that if the time shall come, 
And if volition have integrity 
To fix again that column in the sky, 
Thou It lend assistance? 

Gaston. Wolfram, I do swear. 

What honour will permit I swear to do, 
Though it were thy destruction. 

Wolfram. Give thy hand! 

The words I needed most! 
This saving of ourselves doth ruin us. 
'T is an impoverishment poured over us, 
Even in our cradles, by maternal love, 
Belittling all the prospect of our thought, 
Which should be infinite. 

Gaston. Nay, nay, come back, 

Nor disappear within your cloud of words. 

Action's the cure. And for the queen, beware! 

The time may come when you upon your knees 
[ 23] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Shall ask your mother's pardon. Come, my lord; 
A stranger waits his welcome of kind words 
While you do rant about the infinite. 

Wolfram. Gaston, thou 'rt right. 
Thy spirit cures me of an old disease, 
And shows behind the stroke of thy rebuke 
A s worded angel. Courage is the need; 
And every virtue but a form of courage. 
Seek we. the singer. 

Enter Ephraim, showing in Pharamond. 

Ephraim. Here they are, Sir Pharamond. 
Here is my young master — here is KingSigmund's son. 

Pharamond. And as like him as flame is to fire. 

Wolfram. Pharamond, welcome again to Minne- 
berg. Art thou indeed that old playfellow of my fa- 
ther's youth? Time was he would talk of thee, and tell 
of the ballads you would ever be conning instead of 
learning to ride. I believe that in his heart there is a 
place that has been empty since you left, — though 
you were but a boy. Welcome, and thanks for coming. 

Pharamond. I am paid already in seeing you, my 
lad. Your eyes are like him enough to be himself. 

Wolfram. Nay, they are mine own eyes. But thou 
shalt see his, ere thou go. This is Gaston, my foster- 
[ 24 ] 



ACT FIRST 

brother. If you love me, you must love him; for we 
are so intertwined that we cannot tell which is the tree 
and which the vine. 

Gaston. Nay, I am the vine. 

Wolfram. But wilt thou sing for us ere thou go? 

Pharamond. Indeed I will. What else am I good for 
but to sing? 

Enter Elfrida. 

Wolfram. This is Elfrida, my mother's niece. She 
sings, herself, and plays on the lute. 

Elfrida. I heard that thou wast come, Pharamond. 
And wilt thou teach me songs ere thou go? For it is 
eight years since a bard has come by here; and all my 
songs are old. 

Pharamond. Willingly, my lady. 

Wolfram. But wilt thou sing for us now, Phara- 
mond ? We are all in need of thee, and our need cries 
out and bids us make thee sing. 

Pharamond. But of course I will sing. 

Wolfram. Gaston, bid them tell the queen on my 
word to come hither. She will love this man. Bid old 
Hildebrand come at once. Tell him that Pharamond 
has come back and is going to sing us Roland at Ron- 
cevalles. 

[25] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Elfrida. Not that, cousin, not that. Why should we 
all be set to weeping? 

Wolfram. What else have we done in this castle 
but weep? Tell Hedwig, tell Karl, that a bit of the old 
castle has come back. Let them set a chair here for 
her majesty. (To Elfrida.) And, cousin, do thou sit on 
a low stool and listen, for this man is a master. (To 
Pharamond.) Nay, Pharamond, what I have most of all 
in my mind is my father's picture of thee reciting the 
Song of Roland. But we must have a throng to listen, 
or it is nothing. {Goes about giving orders.) 

Elfrida (to Gaston). The prince is transformed. 
He has laid moping aside and is grown into a man 
over night. 

Gaston. It is Pharamond's coming that has awak- 
ened all of us. 

Elfrida. It is that, and more than that. 

Pharamond (to Elfrida). The young prince has 
won my heart by resembling his father. 

Elfrida. Nay, Wolfram is the greater man. He is 
greater even than Gaston here. 

Pharamond (draws Gaston aside). It grieves me to 
hear on all hands that my old friend is not well. I 
have already seen things here that are strange. I like 

[26] 



ACT FIRST 

not to ask the son so bluntly as I may ask you. Yet I beg 
you to find a few moments for private speech with me. 
I come from Mainz. And, to be short, I found there 
a full-blown conspiracy against the king and his heir. 
You have under this roof an arch-devil and traitor in 
the guise of a doctor. I have travelled day and night 
to reach you — I hope, not too late. 

Gaston. Praise God you have come ! When the sing- 
ing is over, I will wait on you in private. 

Elfrida (to Gaston). Pray Heaven that our merry- 
making do not wake the doctor; or we shall all be put 
in guard. But hush, here comes the queen. 

Enter Queen; servants have been entering. 

Wolfram. Mother, this is my father's friend the 
minstrel. 

Queen. Pharamond, I bid you heartily welcome. 
You have already changed the air of this country- 
seat. You may judge for yourself that your name is 
not forgotten. At a word of permission, they flock. 
But do you sing for us now? 

Pharamond. Such is the prince's desire. 

A chair is set for the Queen. Gaston and Elfrida 

group themselves on smaller benches or stools. The 

old retainers stand about and listen. 

[27] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Wolfram. Set old Hildebrand in the front: he is 
deaf. Now, Pharamond, what more dost thou need? A 
cup of wine for the minstrel! 

Pharamond. Water, my lord; and bid my boy Ge- 
rard bring his viol and sit at my feet. The old custom 
demands it. 

Enter Gerard; sits at Pharamond '«? feet and tunes 
his instrument. A cup of water is brought. While 
these arrangements are being made Elfrida and 
Gaston speak together. 

Elfrida. I dread this valley, Gaston. In a moment 
we shall all be in tears. If I step out and avoid the 
ending, thou shalt say I am sick. 

Gaston. Yes, my lady. 

Elfrida. But I am not sick, Gaston. 

Gaston. No, my lady. 

Elfrida. Is it the need of pleasure, think you, this 
pang that runs about any circle of listeners at the first 
chords of a song ? The fresh drops of music fall upon 
a great thirst in our souls. Everyone is athirst, Gaston. 

Gaston. Attend the music, my lady. 

Pharamond (sings). 
High stand the crags; dark dream the dales; 
Gray are the rocks in the dreaded ravine. 

[28] 



ACT FIRST 

(He has no sooner begun, than a disturbance is heard 
outside the door which attracts everyone 's attention.) 

Martin {without). Ay, but I will come in ! I have a 
message from my master to the queen that must be 
given instantly. 

Wolfram. Silence ! The next who whispers interrup- 
tion 
Shall learn good manners in the dungeon keep. 

Enter Martin, pushing his way in. He is small, 
dressed in dingy black, with black skull-cap, greasy 
face and obsequious manners. He kneels and holds 
up a paper. 

Wolfram. Who is this inky devil? 

Hildebrand. He is a scullion in the devil's kitchen, 
my lord. It is the doctor's servant. 

Wolfram. Here, take his paper, some of you ; and you, 
Bruno and Hildebrand, do you take him 
And whip him soundly. 

Queen. No! good Wolfram, no. 

He did w r hat he was bid. Give me the paper. 

(Reads it in silence, and hands it in silence to Wolfram.) 

Wolfram (reads). 
" There has come to this castle one who seeks my life. 
Let Pharamond be kept in guard till word from me. 
[ 29 ] Sigmund." 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 
It is my father's hand; but not his mind. 

Hildebrand. This is the fang of the wolf that will 
devour all of us. 

Wolfram. This foreign swine will put our guests in 
guard ! 
Great God, I '11 visit him, though he were hedged 
With bars of burning brimstone! Wait ye here. 
I charge thee, Pharamond, leave not thy seat 
Till with my sword I wipe away the stain 
Upon our house's hospitality. 

Queen. Nay, nay, my Wolfram ; woe upon that house 
That stops a breach of manners with a murder. 
Wolfram ! You tarnish your immortal soul 
To have, at last, the hacked and bloody corpse 
Of this apothecary. Pharamond 
Implores you wait the outcome of the day. 
He is not hurt; his honour is not touched. 

Pharamond. Indeed I do, my lord : I have no honour 

That can be hurt by accidental slights. 

The king 's my friend. My coming to his house, 

The welcome ye have given me, the joy, 

Has reawakened every element 

That makes men happy. Tis some grave mistake; 

And we must meet it with benevolence. 

What plot may lurk 

[30] 



ACT FIRST 

Beneath this unexpected visitation 
None of us knows. 

Gaston. And till we do, my lord, 

Let us not dip our fingers in hot blood. 
To kill this quack would more inflame the king 
Who fancies him his saviour. 

Wolfram. I submit. 

Hildebrand {at the door). Your majesty, the doctor 
does approach. 
Must I oppose his passage, or give way? 

Queen. Oppose in no way, ancient servitor, 
Aught that thy king commands. We will receive him. 

Enter Hincmar, followed by Oswald and four men- 
at-arms. 

Hincmar. The king, your majesty, his envoy makes 
me 
To acquaint you with his pleasure. I fulfil — 
I do confess unwillingly fulfil — a needed office. 

Queen. To his will we bow, 

And do accept the embassy : speak on. 

Hincmar. Madam, the king's amendment much de- 
pends 
Upon the freedom of his mind from cares 
Which do besiege him. Policies of state 
[31] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

And long-protracted grieving over doubts, 
Bound up with memories, have undermined — 

Queen {interrupting). I see not that such diagnosis 
faUs 
Within the scope and bearing of your preface, 
Which touched, good master doctor, the king's plea- 
sure, 
Not his disease. 

Hincmar. Ay, madam, 'tis his pleasure 
To medicine his mind with needed rest. 
It is his pleasure to be undisturbed, 
And for the kingdom's governance to appoint 
A minister, whose back shall take the brunt 
Of daily businesses and petty cares 
Repugnant to his nature and condition. 
'Tis his good pleasure to devolve on me 
Much that mine ease of heart might bid me shirk, 
And my diviner studies contravene, 
Were not his life at stake. He here has writ 
The sum of my employments, which I give 
By his command into your highness' hand; 
By his command to ask you publish them 
Condignly to all lesser ministers. 

{He hands a document to the Queen; then says to Os- 
wald:) 

[32] 



ACT FIRST 

Oswald, the king himself instructed you. 
Perform his will. 

Pharamond. I beg you all to give no thought to 
me, 
Or my dilemma. I have scrambled through 
Many rough places with his majesty; 
And laugh already o'er the end of it. (To Oswald.) 

Sir, I am ready. 
[Oswald arrests Pharamond, and exeunt , Hinc- 
mar walking out first, then Oswald with Phara- 
mond, then the soldiers. 

Wolfram. But that a greater issue stayed my hand, 
I would have killed him, mother, as he spoke. 
Amazing insolence! He wears his power 
As if ambition were a grassy plume, 
And his chain armour of dissimulation, 
A wreath of smoke. 

Gaston. He is no common man ; 

A fact our safety bids us reckon with. 
What is his document ? ( Takes it and begins to examine 

it.) 

Queen. Twere rightly viewed 

In more becoming leisure. Break we here 
This gathering. My servants and my friends, 
Go, all of you, about your usual work. 
[33] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Orders to everyone shall be assigned. 

The king must be obeyed. The prince my son 

Gives us a kingly sample : copy him. 

And keep as close a visage as ye can 

Against all temper-trying scrutiny. 

Go, all of ye, at once. [Exeunt Servants. 

Gaston, Elfrida, 
Attend our further pleasure. Wolfram, my son, 
I thank thee for thy undelivered stroke; 
And thank God, too, who takes such strokes as that 
Into his keeping for delivery. 
(To Gaston.) What says the document? 

Gaston. This paper makes him 

Administrator of the king^ estate, 
Legal, political, and military; 
Ecclesiastical preceptor, — he to receive 
Keys of all strongholds, tables of accounts, 
Seals great and small, the legal judgment rolls, 
The records of taxation — Why, my liege, 
This is an abdication, not a writ ! 
Send to the emperor : this will not stand. 
No feudatory can unking himself 
To crown another. Send a messenger 
To the Imperial Chancelry at Mainz, 
And ask a speedy answer. 

[34] 






ACT FIRST 

Queen. Send, ay, but how and whom ? Yourself must 
stay 
To be our safety here. 

Elfrida. Your majesty, — 

If I may speak the thought that jumps in me, — 
Send Pharamond. His gaolers are my friends; 
And he himself has promised me a song, 
Which well may be continued under guard. 
Mark you, your majesty, the king's command 
Assigns not solitude to Pharamond, 
But only surveillance. And Oswald shall 
Interpret it with such benign regard 
(Under instruction* from your highness' eyes) 
That Pharamond shall sleep to-night at Mainz, 
And on the morrow hail the emperor 
To our deliverance. 

Queen. What say you, Gaston? 

Gaston. 'T is a likely plan, 

And meets our need of haste. The doctor's shaft 
Was fumbled in the aim, and grazes us. 
To-morrow may clap feathers to his bolts. 
Will not these servants, think you, be dismissed 
Ere eventide? 

Queen. What others can he get? 

[35] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Gaston. Others are marching towards us, out of 
doubt. 

Queen. It is most like. The papers shall be drawn, 
And by Elfrida brought to Pharamond. 
Be seen about the castle, all of ye, 
Calming the ruffled household with your looks, 
And later bring your wits to my assistance. 



[36] 



ACT II 

SCENE FIRST 
The Queen's Chamber 

The Queen and Hedwig are at work over some do- 
mestic occupation. 

Hedwig. And which of your two sons did you love 
best last night? 

Queen. Hedwig, you are an old witch. How did you 
know I was thinking of that? 

Hedwig. Old witch ! Why, that is what witches are. 
They are old servants; just cast-off servants. That is 
why they know everything. 

Queen. You have always some sharp splinters of 
wit about you, Hedwig. And which of my boys do you 
think I love best, — in all your wisdom? 

Hedwig. An easy question. "T is him you give the 
most pain to, Lady Margaret, — and your own son, 
of course; not the foundling. 

Queen. Well, Hedwig, I believe I love Gaston the 
foundling — as nearly as any woman can — as much 
as my own son Wolfram. But it is many years since 
you have called me "Lady Margaret.*" 

Hedwig. And have not the thoughts of many years 
[37] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

ago been coming up in all our faces lately? May I give 
your highness a splinter of my wit to open your eyes 
with? 

Queen. Why, I cannot prevent you, Hedwig. 

Hedwig. Keep your hands off the lads and the 
lasses, Lady Margaret. 

Queen. What say you? 

Hedwig. Let them choose for themselves. 

Queen. What do you mean, old Hedwig? 

Hedwig. How little we know! How little we see! 
Do as you would be done by, Lady Margaret. Your 
niece and Signor Gaston will make a match, if you will 
keep your hands off. 

Queen. Gaston and Elfrida — 

Hedwig. What has your own life been made by the 
meddling of elders ? — grief and heart-burning. If they 
had let you alone, you would have married Count 
Hugo. 

Queen. Hedwig, how dare you ! 

Hedwig. Well, it is long since; and yet it is near 
by. I think it is only yesterday that he bade you good- 
bye, and rode off on his charger; and he came back 
never again. 

Queen. What is it, Hedwig? — that I should suffer 
[38] 



ACT SECOND 

your ill-humour and your impertinence ! You know I 
never loved Count Hugo. 

Hedwig. More 's the pity ! He was a noble gentle- 
man ; and you gave him the heart-break. And you gave 
it to me. 

Queen. This is intolerable! What has happened, 
Hedwig? If you take these liberties I shall have to 
send you away; and I shall send you away — forever. 

Hedwig. All things have happened. Your marriage 
has happened. More 's the pity, more 's the pity. And 
this great match, and this great king, and his great 
kingdom, with everything to give you — everything 
except love — and that he never gave you; for he had 
it not to give, for he left his love at Jerusalem, and 
he sent you his child to bring up ! Curses on him, it 
is the truth ! 

Queen. Hedwig, thou liest ! Thou unclean animal ! 
Leave me! Come not near me! Dost thou carry this 
filth in thy mind? Go, I say! And come not back. 
When I ring let Hilda come. Go, go ! \Exit Hedwig. 
It is not true. 'T is not in Sigmund's nature. 
Such meanness is not in him. He has been 
Loving, repentant, shifting, pitiable; 
But never base. This hag would turn an act 

[39] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Of grace and goodness into infamy. 

And yet the dates would make it possible. 

Why did I never dream there was a child? 

'T is very likely, though it heaps the sin — 

But no, it is not true. He knew it not. 

He could not, even in grief, have lived with me 

And I not know it. I have drained his soul 

Of all its meanings ; and no child was there. 

And were it so, could this defile the child? 

My boy, my blessed Gaston, sent to me 

As from the angels? — I must wash my heart, 

Purge it with hyssop, ere I speak to him. 

(Goes to a cabinet and takes oat a package.) 
Shall I speak now? — it has been long delayed, 
And will draw off the poison from my soul. 

(Rings a bell; enter Hilda.) 
Tell Signor Gaston I would speak with him. 

[Exit Hilda. 
It is a dread that haunts me, that some change 
Will follow on my giving him the cross. 

Enter Gaston. The Queen looks at him long and 
earnestly. 

Whosever child thou art, thou art my son 
And Wolfram's brother. 

[ 40 ] 



ACT SECOND 

Gaston. What, has he falFn into his glooms again ? 
I left him in the zenith. Last night's work 
Has roused him to ambition. Once for all, 
I tell thee give him rein. He goes apace; 
And at this moment is consulting me. 
If 't be for this that thou hast summoned me, 
I must go back. 

Queen. Nay, it is not for this: 'tis for thyself. 
A solemn hour I owe thee, long delayed, 
Which the o'ergathered skies precipitate. 
We cannot tell what storms begin to break, 
Or how our lives may drift: it must be now. 

Gaston. All hours of mine are thine, thou knowest 
well. 

Queen. When thou wast left within the castle gate, 
Out of thy basket smiled a confidence 
That shined on our first meeting, and still shines 
On both our lives. 

Gaston. From both our hearts, my lady. 

Queen. Yes, from them both. But, Gaston, thy true 
mother 
Left — rather sent, for from her grave it came — 
A package with a note. 
It is her crucifix ; and in the lines, 
She begs they be withholden from her son 
[ « ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Till he be grown to manhood. That is all. 
I know not who she was, and ever kept 
My thoughts from asking, since she told it not. 
Read them not now; but when thou art alone. 
Take it: ^is thine. (Gives the package.) 

Gaston. My lady, I do take it, 

As I have taken all things at thy hands, 
Richer for passing through them. 

[She kisses him on the forehead and exit. 
Dear gift, I have no time to think on thee. 

(Opens the package.) 
A crucifix! — that typifies perhaps 
A crucifixion. Must I read the lines 
Written in pain? The pain speaks out of them, — 
Love, pain, and death. 



SCENE SECOND 
On the Ramparts 

Distant View, Sunset. In some part of the architecture 
a small grated door leading into a Turret. Hildebrand 
on guard. Elfrida at first speaks to herself later to 
Hildebrand. 

Elfrida. That men should raise these great walls 
towards heaven for the benefit of watchmen! All be- 

[ « ] 



ACT SECOND 

low, dungeons and guard-rooms, — darkness and the 
crimes of the earth. And here above, they place a soar- 
ing heavenly nest, which swings beneath the stars at 
night ; and, in the morning, turns to a sun-smit bal- 
cony above the ribboned river, overviewing the illi- 
mitable sea of the green earth. And in this niche of 
paradise they place a watchman, and bid him strain 
his eyes for dust. Dust must he see, dust watch for, 
dust dream of, while this changing magic of sky and 
land unrolls itself unseen before him. Hildebrand, 
what hast thou seen to-day? 

Hildebrand. I have seen a company of Flemish mer- 
chants with their mules. 

Elfrida. How dost thou know they were mules ? 

Hildebrand. Horses would raise a greater cloud, my 
lady. It is ever at this time of year that the Walloon 
traders pass by here, coming from the Rhine. 

Elfrida. It would be hard to cast dust in thine 
eyes, old watchman ; they are dust-proof. In how short 
a time will a good horse carry a good rider from this 
castle to Coblentz, Hildebrand? 

Hildebrand. In four hours, my lady — three and a 
half if the roads be fair. 

Elfrida. And from there to Mainz? 

[ 43 ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Hildebrand. A matter of two hours. 

Elfrida. Fetch me my lute, Hildebrand. 

Hildebrand. I dare not leave the watch, my lady. 
I must report each hour to Oswald. 

Elfrida. Each hour, sayst thou? Is Oswald looking 
for troops, think you? 

Hildebrand. I think nothing, my lady, but to do 
what the queen says, and to report to Oswald. 

Elfrida. And if there come two hundred Swiss cut- 
throats headed by Satan himself, and this Iscariot bids 
you let them in, you will do so, I suppose. 

Hildebrand. I shall report them to Oswald. 

Elfrida. And Oswald will let them in? 

Hildebrand. If Oswald turned key on Pharamond 
the minstrel, as good a friend as ever I had in my life, 
— and as good a friend as the king had, — I suppose 
he will. 

Elfrida. Hildebrand, harkee ! Pharamond is by this 
time in Mainz, raising troops to save us. Osw r ald is 
turning the keys in his lock, that the sound of the click- 
ing may cause the devil to sleep. 

Hildebrand. But does the queen know this? 

Elfrida. Dost thou know this ring? 

Hildebrand. Ay, the queen's ring. 
[ 44 ] 



ACT SECOND 

Elfrida. I have been the round of all the guards 
with the story. Keep up thy vigilance, make thy reports, 
obey thy master the king and his master the doctor. 
If our friends arrive first, it is well; if not, we will 
throw down the mask and stand siege till they come. 
Go to: study thy dust; keep thy countenance; and 
talk little. I will sing a song to ease my heart, which 
thumps loudly. The lute is at the door; give it me. 

{Sings and accompanies herself. Hildebrand returns 
to his guard at some distance, and during the song 
Gaston enters.) 

Song 
Glad to his horse he springs, 
The child of fifty kings, 
Bids bolts be drawn. 
Out of the castle's keep 
He passes at a leap 
Across the lawn. 

Rides as his horse had wings, 
And, as he gallops, sings 
With sword half drawn. 
To set the shackles free, 
To save his friend, rides he 
Across the dawn. 
[ « ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

(As she finishes the song she holes up and sees Gas- 
ton.) 
Gaston, I cannot play this comedy longer. My steps 
falter, my heart aches, my head swims. How many 
days have we been in this trap? 

Gaston. Since six o'clock yestreen. 

Elfrida. Gaston, I had thought it a month. And 
how long must it continue? 

Gaston. Why, as events go in this world, and with 
good luck on our side, I should say a week would bring 
the crisis. 

Elfrida. And what will happen in this week? 

Gaston. I take it that Pharamond will somehow get 
leave to lay our case before the emperor; and this will 
cause the enemy to show their hand, — we cannot guess 
how, but the fighting will be brought into the open. 

Elfrida. And then? 

Gaston. Then — I know not. But in the end the 
clouds will blow over our heads and leave the sunshine. 

Elfrida. Gaston, Gaston, you are one of those men 
who take all things for granted, — fame, fortune, 
honour. Thou dost not reach out thine hand for these 
things; thou acceptest them, smiling. And thou wouldst 
endow all other men with the like gift of success. 

[46] 



ACT SECOND 

Gaston. Success, lady ? Do you speak of success to 
one who has no part or place in all this coloured life 
of the world, except to look at it ? As I first opened 
my eyes on it, I learned that I was nothing. Amidst 
it all, I have schooled myself to be a cipher, lest I 
should betray the hospitality that took me in. I dare 
not speak now of myself, lest I shall break out and 
claim the place of others. 

Elfrida. Thou, a cipher! Thou art the hoop that 
holds them all together, Gaston. They lean on thee as 
these walls lean on the cliff. Thou art everything ; thou 
hast everything. It is all given thee because thou de- 
sirest nothing. 

Gaston. Speak not so, Elfrida. Thou knowest not 
the cost. There are things I have wanted — 

Elfrida. What, Gaston? 

Gaston. There is a thing I have wanted much — 

Elfrida. What, Gaston? 

Gaston. I cannot have it; I do not ask it. But, El- 
frida, the term of my apprenticeship is up. As soon as 
this trouble is over, I go to seek my fortune in the 
world. 

Elfrida. Gaston! Thou wilt leave us! 

Gaston. See, Elfrida, this thought is not new, but 

[47 ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

an old and growing thought, — that I must speak; 
that I must go. And it is to thee that I must speak. 

Elfrida. And why should you not? 

Gaston. The queen this morning gave me news of 
my mother. It tells me nothing I knew not before ; and 
yet it is a signal, a bell that strikes, and tells me to 
speak at once and go. I would have spoken to thee 
before, but feared to surprise thee, feared to pain thee. 
And so I waited, thinking that time would show the 
better way of it. 

Elfrida. Which time has done, Gaston. 

Gaston. Elfrida, I love thee. 

Elfrida. And why should you not? Must the wo- 
men do all the loving in this world? Dost thou not 
think, Gaston, that for many years I have known thou 
lovest me? Dost thou not think that I have seen the 
struggle in thee and suffered in it? These things hap- 
pen in duplicate, and transfer themselves to women 
from their lovers, like reflections in a glass. Why, Gas- 
ton, I love thee, and have always loved thee. I care 
not whether thou be a peasant or a prince. Why dost 
thou make so much protestation over a plain case? 

Gaston. I thought thou wast predestined for thy 
cousin Wolfram. 

[48] 



ACT SECOND 

Elfrida. For Wolfram ? Why, if any woman were a 
proposition in metaphysical thought, Wolfram might 
look at her; but at me, never. I am not difficult enough; 
I am plain addition and subtraction. Besides, / would 
not have him : he is too remarkable. O Gaston, was it 
because the gypsy four years ago prophesied I should 
be queen, that you grew jealous? Fie, I am ashamed 
of you ! 

Gaston. It is not any of these things : it is the queen. 

Elfrida. I love the queen as much as you can love 
her; and I owe her almost as much. But not so much 
as that, Gaston. If the queen have it in her heart that 
I shall marry her son, she must put it out of her heart. 
I cannot grant it. 

Gaston. The queen has been to me mother, and fa- 
ther, and home; she has given me all. And if she have 
it in her heart that thou shalt marry her son, I will 
not interpose myself. It would be treason and ingrati- 
tude. Elfrida, I love thee, but I will not woo thee. 

Elfrida. No ! But thou wouldst play me as a pawn 

in the game of thy life ! The knight, to save his honour, 

lets the queen take the pawn. Fie upon you, Gaston ! 

I will not marry Wolfram. I will not marry him. I — 

will — not — marry him! And Wolfram himself shall 

beg you on his bended knees to marry me. The queen 
[ 49 ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

shall beseech it. Must you be pressed further? The 
king shall ask it. See, Gaston my friend, the fighting 
is going to be brought into the open. This pawn oc- 
cupies a strong position and shows fight. 

Gaston. You are mad, Elfrida. 

Elfrida. I am not mad, I am only sensible; and I 
will bring down your card house of romantic endea- 
vour with a few strong strokes of common sense. Till 
you spoke I was powerless; but now I am the master. I 
praise God for it. 

Gaston. Take care what you do, Elfrida! 

Elfrida. Ay, I will take care. 

Gaston. And do not add one more to the griefs that 
hang over this house! 

Elfrida. Trust me, trust me, Gaston. The hard part 
is done. Do you think I have needed no tact or dis- 
cretion during these last two years? Trust me, the rest 
is easy. Now tell me : Last night the king was up till 
midnight; and the doctor in the corner tower burned 
his taper till three. What can these two old men con- 
cert together at such times, think you? 

Gaston. Affliction loves late hours. 

Elfrida. And treason never goes to bed at all. 
I must attend the queen. [Exit Elfrida. 

[50] 



ACT SECOND 

Enter Wolf ram followed almost immediately by Gerard. 

Wolfram (to Gaston). Why, I have sought for thee 
the castle o'er. 

Gaston. Hast thou got news? 

Wolfram. No news, but information; 

Surmise, that may be valueless or not. 
In our uneasy twilight of suspense 
Shadows are things, and every rustling motion 
A cause of fear. 

Gaston. Well, let me hear the tale. 

Wolfram. Some strangers have been near the castle 
wall, 
And seen by Gerard. But this is not all — 

Gaston. And where is Gerard? 

Wolfram. Gerard follows me. 

(To Gerard.) Gerard, rehearse what thou hast told to 

me. 
Speak not too loud. 

Gerard. At eventide, my lord, 

Above the deepening shadows of the moat, 
Figures that moved; I took them to be gypsies. 
Lights in the bushes, shades, — I know not what. 

Gaston. At eventide, you say. And where were you? 

Gerard. On Clovis' tower, as the watchmen call it. 
[51 ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Gaston. The place you name is a neglected orchard? 
One sees it plainly from the rampart's edge? 

Gerard. Ay, that is it, my lord, beneath the cliff, 
Outside the rampart. 'T is an old men's home 
For some few dying fruit trees. 

Wolfram. This countryside is full of partridges 
And gypsies, and their nests are ever thick 
Beneath the bristling hedge of feudal war. 
Yet it disquiets me to find a nest 
So near the secret entrance to the castle. 
Our enemy within has friends without. 
May he not correspond with them by night, 
Using this entrance? May not Gerard's gypsies 
Prove to be Hincmar's spies? The covered way 
Comes up within a bowshot from the spot. 
Here soldiers might collect for a surprise. 
Now for the news that brought me here in haste : 
The guards are changed to-night; this western ramp 
Has not a man assigned it in the order. 

Gaston. Who told you this? It is significant. 

Wolfram. Gerard, who had it from old Hilde- 
brand. 

Gerard. 'T is so, my lord. 

Gaston. Indeed. What shall we do ? 

[52] 



ACT SECOND 

Wolfram. Why, Gaston, you and I must take the 
watch. 
There is no time for other stratagem. 
At least we shall discover what is wrong. 

Gaston. Agreed. And let us part immediately, 
Lest we be seen together on this spot. 
Is it at nine o'clock the guards go off? 
Wolfram. Nay, ten. 

Gaston. At ten, then, meet me here, 

Or something after. 

Wolfram. Gerard, come with me. 

[Exeunt ; Wolfram and Gerard on one side, Gas- 
ton on the other. The curtain falls ; and imme- 
diately rises on the same scene by moonlight. 

SCENE THIRD 

The Same. Moonlight 
Wolfram and Gaston in armour. 

Gaston. We had best keep in the shadow of the tower 
till we know more. There below is the orchard Gerard 
spoke of. 

Wolfram. And it is as silent as an apparition. I can 

more easily believe that Gerard imagined inhabitants 

for such a place than that he saw them. How many 
[53] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

a time have you and I, Gaston, counted dead rabbits 
in that spot when we were boys. 

Gaston. It is, no doubt, for the same purpose that 
the gypsies have chosen it. Wilt thou preserve the 
game strictly when thou art king? 

Wolfram. How strong a mystery abides in things 
at night! Those few old broken-hearted trees, those 
arches and masonry, which by day are heaps of rub- 
bish, become, by night, wonderful. They move the 
heart; they overcome us with pity. What is there in 
the mere diminution of daylight that can do this? It 
dissolves the body and makes ghosts of us. Dost thou 
fear live men, Gaston, when thou viewest this place? 

Gaston. It is the fear of live men-at-arms that has 
brought me here, and I rejoice greatly to find only 
ghosts. 

Wolfram. And I fear only the spirit. What say you? 
Is it not because of the overshadowing of a spirit that 
we keep this vigil to-night? What gives the power to 
those men whom you fear, but the mysterious extinc- 
tion of soul, the mystical eclipse in my father? Is not 
this, then, the reality ; and are not your live men-at- 
arms, and your daylight, the illusion ? 

Gaston. I cannot follow you in the moonlight, Wol- 
fram, but I believe you. 

[54] 



ACT SECOND 

Wolfram. Know'st thou what is in my heart through 
all this siege, through all the plots and stratagems? 
It is in my mind that the arena of my father's sick-room 
is extended; and that you and I are become quack 
doctors, — with our engines of war, our pills, our bul- 
lets, — for the recovery of what? — of the castle, of our 
own lives. But for the recovery of my father's soul, 
which of us cares ? While we lay our siege and hold 
our parleys, the powers of the infernal world lay siege 
to him. And would not I give all these astute triflings 
for one glimpse into that greater conspiracy? Would 
I not give — 

Gaston. Hist! Stand close. Someone is coming. We 
were best retire further into the shadows. 

{They retire a little; the clank of armour is heard.) 

Wolfram. By their walk, armed men. 

Gaston. Two of them. Who goes there? 

Diedrick {without). Friends to the Archbishop. 

Wolfram {to Gaston). What should that mean ? 

Gaston. It is some countersign. 

Enter Diedrick and Hans in armour with visors down. 

Wolfram. Thy voice is not strange as are thy words. 
Stand, in the king's name ! Villains, if ye budge 
I '11 hew ye to the earth. Gaston, fall on ! 
[55] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

{They fight, Diedrick and Hans are killed.) 
Wolfram. Now to the entrance grille and throw the 
bar 
Before the rest are on us. These have had 
A key at their disposal. 

[Exit Gaston and the sound of falling bars is 
heard. Wolfram kneels by the body of Die- 
drick^ 
Oh for a light! — for if there be not more, 
These must have papers. They were messengers. 
Would God we had a light! 

{Pidls some papers from Diedrick^s breast.) I thought 

so. 
Gaston {reentering). Silent as death below: there 

are no more. 
Wolfram. We have here that which shall unravel 
our mystery. 
Would God we had a light ! 

Gaston. Someone is coming up the turret stairs. 
Wolfram. It is the master of these wretched men, 
Who keeps a rendezvous — Hincmar, no doubt. 
He shall not pass the threshold. Stand you there; 
And, lest he stumble over our dead friends, — 
{Pushes the bodies each to one side.) 

[ 56] 



ACT SECOND 

Even as he issues kill him! 

The door in the turret opens mistily and enter the 

King. 

Great powers of God ! 
It is my father, tottering, infirm, 
His eyes uncertain, and his hands outstretched, 
As if he begged for mercy. He's alone; 
And has, perhaps, escaped his gaoler's eye 
To catch the unclouded beauty of the night, 
Stealing salvation. Go, good Gaston, go, 
And get between this doctor and his prey. 
Leave me alone with this imperilled soul 
That beats its wings against the cage of life 
And finds no door. Go, Gaston; keep a watch, 
And warn me; for the fiend is close behind. 

{Gaston retires a little.) 

King (to himself). Deep calls to deep; there is no 
secrecy. 
All hidden crimes are written on the sky; 
A change of light will show them. Yet we fight 
To keep them under key. Her voice all night 
Has floated over me in cadences 
More soft than an aeolian instrument. 

Wolfram (to himself). This is no sickness; this is 
sanity, — 

[57] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

The healing pain that madness cannot bear. 

God, that didst unravel this sick soul, 
And, skein by skein, didst cast it on a heap, 
Thy power begins to build it back to life. 

Gaston {returning to Wolfram). My lord, 't were best 
we do absent ourselves, 
Nor stand too near the portals of a spirit 
Open to the utmost. Many a good man's life 
Has passages a son may leave unguessed. 

Wolfram {to himself). See, in the darkness where 
we thought him lost, 
This light was dawning. {To Gaston.) 

Didst thou speak to me? 
Gaston. I say it is unseemly to observe him. 
Wolfram. Go to thy post ! I knew not thou wast here. 
[Exit Gaston through the grated door. 
King {to himself). Is she within me, that I feel so 
clear 
The proclamation of her silent will? 

Wolfram. It is my will, my father, thou dost feel. 
What thou hast done I know not; who she was 

1 care not; what it is that bids thee speak 
None of us knows. Yet speak it to the world, 
That has no power to punish, save by fear 

[58] 



ACT SECOND 

Of punishment. Proclaim it openly, 
And these hallucinations will be laid 
Asleep in the sunlight. 

King. Wolfram! art thou here? 

What hast thou heard? 

Wolfram. Enough to make me glad, 

Though understanding little. 

King. Wolfram, Wolfram, 

I dare not think of thee. 

Wolfram. Thou hast no need 

To think of me. Keep all thy thoughts above me. 

King. Yet falls thy lion^ shadow on my path! 
Wolfram, thou wilt take vengeance — 

Wolfram Nay, 't is past. 

Thy sacrilege was over all of us, 
Ajid thy redemption. Father, I have known 
Thy vow of youth, — some sin, some tragedy, 
Of which thine outward sickness was the sign. 
Can you not think I wore it in my life 
From boyhood up? But youth and reticence, 
Before the shadow of a father's sin, 
Are dumb. Now manhood, grief, and pain 
Make me the father. 'T is a mystery, 
Yet plain to homely thought. Confess the sin. 

[59] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

I meant not to disturb your reveries; 

It is by accident God grants me here 

A moment's flash of speech. Your friend will come, 

And draw you back through subterranean paths 

To policy and medicine. 

King. Wolfram! Wolfram! 

Wolfram. Promise to speak. 

King. Dost thou, too, urge me, Wolfram? 

Wolfram. Promise to speak. 

King. My son, I promise thee. 

Wolfram (to Heaven). Do Thou accomplish it! He 
needs me not. 

Gaston (without). My lord, the doctor comes! 

Wolfram. Ay, let him come. 

The air will do him good. 

Enter from the grated door first Gaston, then Hinc- 
mar with a lantern. 

(To Hincmar.) Good evening, sir. 
Hincmar (to the King). Is 't by your orders that 
these gentlemen 
Find themselves here to-night? If it be so, 
I cannot for your life be answerable. 

King. Nay, it is no one's fault — an accident. 
Good Hincmar, be assured. I grow so strong 

[60] 



ACT SECOND 
Through your good care of me, 't will do no harm. 
Hincmar. Harm beyond cure to what you hold 
most dear 
May come of it. Take care, your majesty; 
It is no trifling business brings them here. 
'T is much the best you go to bed at once, 
And let me reason with them. 

Wolfram. Ay, good father, 

Leave him to reason with us : so 't is best. 
King. I will obey you both. 

Hincmar (sets down lantern and ushers out the King). 

I would not for my life 
Have had your holy purposes disturbed 
By such infringement of your solitude, 
Done at the greatest hazard to your health, 
By those to whom I thought your health was dear. 

[Exit King through the grated door, followed 
by Hincmar. 

Wolfram. Obsequious serpent! Gaston, guard the 

door! 

A light, at last! (Takes the lantern, kneels by the body 

of Diedrick and holds the light to the page.) 

It is a letter with no signature, 

The bearer dashed with mud from head to heel. 

Perhaps the secret of my father's life 
[61 ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Lives in these pages. To my soul alone 

Belongs the interview. {Puts the letter in his pocket. 

Opens the visor of the dead man.) Diedrick, is it thou? 

Thou hast for a few ducats sold thy king, 

And almost killed myself, that was thy friend. 

Enter Hincmar, with somewhat of a flourish. 
Hincmar. What have ye done to get this interview? 
{He catches sight of the dead bodies, and instantly 

springs back within the turret, shutting the grated 

door as he does so.) 

Gaston. Walked on the castle wall to count the 

guards. 
Hincmar. Some of whom ye have killed, ye sorry 

boys! 
Gaston. Villain, 'tis thou that slew'st them. They 
have here 
Pretasted of the cup that thou shalt drain. 
Have at thee ! Thou hast here immured the king, 
Swept the coast clear of all protecting guards, 
And dost, we know, by daily correspondence 
Invite the enemy to a surprise. 
'T is best you know what follows your success. 
If that we find success is like to follow, 
On the first stroke or sign of likelihood, 

[62] 



ACT SECOND 
I dedicate my life to killing thee. 

Hincmar. I had not thought to laugh within this 
castle ! 
Ye do expect an ambush, laying one. 
I '11 tell the king his cause is in good hands. 
Why, these are household servants ye have killed, 
Doing a household errand for the court. 

Gaston. Ay, if you wish their letter come and get it. 
Go in, thou hoary traitor, thou false friend, 
To fawn and lick the hand that thou wilt bite. 

Wolfram. Go in, old man : we have enough of thee. 
Thy power is waning and thy downfall near. 

Hincmar. Good night, young masters. When my 
downfall comes 
'Twill not be through a foundling and a bastard! 

[Exit Hincmar. 

Wolfram. Twice has he made miraculous escape 

Out of our hands. But this time he hath left 

A thing behind more precious than his life. 

Gaston, it is enough for one night's work : 

Our vigil was not wasted. Let us here 

Gather these corpses up, and make them fit 

For burial on the morrow. Then to rest, 

And meet what else that morrow may bring forth; 

For life begins to stir. 

[63] 



ACT III 

SCENE FIRST 

A Room in the Castle 

Wolfram. His looks show that he has been up all night. 

W olfram. At last I am alone. It is the first hour in 
the last four and twenty in which I find one moment 
of solitude. I have buried the two knaves. The scud- 
ding of events beats my brain dizzy. Let me see. I 
have seen the king my father. And what said he to me, 
or I to him? I bade him repent, or the spirit in both 
of us cried out " repent,"" — I know not which. For, as 
the gulf opened and showed him to me as he is, my 
soul was leaping to a new horse that tore the air above. 
Some climax roars like a torrent and sweeps ever 
nearer — threatening not my father nor me alone; but 
all, all of us. The ship of state rides on a flying wave 
before the blast. What was it that I must read or think 
on alone? {Searches his breast and pulls out the letter 
taken from Diedrick's body.) What now, if this should 
contain something touching myself? I'll not read the 
dirty packet. Yet in the fumes of the volcano last 
night I read my name. "Wolfram, thou w r ilt take ven- 
geance." No ; I promise thee. — Come, this is trifling with 

[64] 



ACT THIRD 

men's lives. {Reads.) "You will by this have secured 
proofs of the king's earlier marriage which will confirm 
our most sure discoveries and place the bastardy of 
Wolfram beyond a doubt." This, then, is the plot, — 
to disinherit me. The shallow rascals! Nay — an early 
marriage ! The king's remorse, then, should be not for 
the ruin of a maid, but for the desertion of a wife. — 
His dread of me, — fear lest I should revenge, — his re- 
cent sickness, which followed their discovery or threats, 
— all tend to prove them right. Let me keep cool. 
{Reads.) "We have four witnesses who know the fact, 
but none who can prove it. You must work upon the 
king. His wife did not die till — " 
It is the truth! The devils have the truth! 
And I have pulled the handle of perdition 
By conjuring my father to confess. 
Wolfram, thou hast thy dream, — thou art a soul 
Dissevered from the common bonds of life. 
How dost thou like it? Thou hast now no place 
Beside the friendly firesides of earth, 
No duties common to humanity 
Of fixed inheritance. Thou art a name, 
A byword, the memento of a crime, 
A spirit in thyself; but nothing more. 
Come, I am wasting pity on myself, 
[65] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Whiles others need it. 

thou old king, what evil hast thou done 

On two defenceless women! One is dead; 

One lives to catch all pity for the first, 

And keep it fresh — my mother. Why on her 

Should fall such desecration? Why on one 

Most innocent, most loyal, and most proud, 

On whom dishonour's touch was powerless 

Even in the thought? O father, it was base! 

Weakness in man doth gash a woman's life 

Deeper than crime. — And I that thought her cold! 

Living within the chill of infamy 

That oozes from this damned castle's walls, 

Divided from her son. I '11 go to her, 

Lest a portcullis fall again between 

And cut us off — 

Enter Queen. 
O mother, do you come 
As I did fly to you? Wilt thou forgive me? 

Queen. For what, my son? 

Wolfram. For all the insolence, 

Cruelty, slights, neglect, misunderstanding, 

Suspicion, and aloofness from thy heart 

With which my ingrate nature punished thee. 

Queen. Indeed, indeed, my Wolfram, I forgive thee. 
[66] 



ACT THIRD 

Wolfram. Thou hast had griefs that were not in my 
ken; 
And these, instead of softening, distanced me, 
And made me misinterpret. They, perhaps, 
Did underlie my moods, and made me mad 
To feel the grope of them. Oh, thou hast needed me 
When I have cast thee off and thought thee cold. 
It was the hope thy son should prove a man, 
Which I have thought ambition, claiming me. 

Queen. T is true that I have felt myself alone, 
And have had sorrows that thou knewest not. 
Women do best who in their quandaries 
Make husbands of their sons. But I could not, — 
Nor would not break the globe of thy beliefs, 
Which were thy birthright, and perhaps his too. 
'T is true that I have seen in thee a hero 
Who should amend all ancient misery; 
There was ambition in it, and some claim. 

Wolfram. Of course, of course; what woman could 
do else? 
They are intrinsic in a mother's heart, 
And I a feeble creature to resent them. 
Wilt thou believe that I can cherish thee 
Through what may come? We know not what may 
come, 

[67] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Yet something, with these tremblings of the times, 
Is bound to come. The earth beneath our feet 
Seems to be moving; some convulsive shock 
Will shatter those who trust it. 

Queen. O my son, 

Stand we upon the truth, and glancing up 
Await the transformation. I care not 
So thou do stand beside me. 

Enter Ephraim. 
Ephraim. Your majesties, Sir Pharamond 

Is come from Mainz, and craves an audience. 

Queen. Pharamond here? 
Let him come up; and bid Count Gaston come. 
Ephraim. Pardon, your highness, Pharamond doth 
ask 
A private word before your majesties. 

Wolfram. Let him come up. [Exit Ephraim. 

Despite all earthly power, 
State secrets turn to gossip in an hour. 

Enter Pharamond. 

Welcome, good Pharamond; thy embassy 

Most promptly is performed. What news from Mainz? 

Pharamond. Both good and bad, my liege. 

Wolfram. Tell the best first, 

[68] 



ACT THIRD 
That we be fortified to greet the worst. 

Pharamond. First, first and best, — your safety is se- 
cure. 
The emperor does send a martial troop, 
And places his protection o'er the castle. 
All danger of surprise or siege is past. 
And here, perhaps, should my recital end, 
For safety was the purpose of my flight. 

Wolfram. Tell in one word what else thou hast to say. 

Pharamond. My liege, no word will tell it. I did find 
At Mainz a nest of intrigue, 'tis too true; 
A party strongly knit and well informed, 
Who stand behind the doctor's insolence, 
And prophesy some ruin to your throne. 

Queen. We all have guessed this Hincmar was a spy. 
But is the emperor committed to them ? 

Pharamond. I do not think so, lady. Our appeal 

Came hot before their project was unmasked: 

We had his ear the first. The enemy, 

Seeing me prosper with the emperor, 

Put in, post haste, their plea; with what result 

We soon shall know. Imperial couriers 

Follow me at the heels. I dared not stop 

To learn their message, lest my doing so 

Should lose you mine. 

[69] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Enter Ephraim, followed by Courier. 
Ephraim. Your majesties, — the imperial courier. 
(Courier kneels and delivers a paper to the Queen, 
who hands it to Wolfram.) 

Wolfram {examining it). It is a writ 
From the Imperial Chancelry at Mainz, 
Appointing a commission to hold court, 
Take proof, and issue judgment on all facts 
Affecting my succession to this throne. 
Mother, take heart; the liquid bolt of light 
That rives the oak and kindles it to flame, 
Finds passage through the unopposing will, 
And leaves us stronger. Can we, then, much fear 
The fulminations of a chancelry? 

Pharamond. Who's the commissioner? 

Wolfram (still examining the paper). Prince ^Egi- 
dius. 

Pharamond. The great elector? Why, thank God 
for that ! 
One of the pillars of old chivalry, 
That lifts the roof o'er honour, — such a man 
As Charlemagne imagined in his dreams 
Might catch his mantle as he left the earth. 
Upon my troth, the emperor, though young, 

[70] 



ACT THIRD 

Has dignified himself by such a choice. 
Where sits the court, my liege? 

Wolfram. Here, and at once. 

(To the Courier.) 
His excellency follows, does he not? 

Courier. Two hours behind, my lord; and with him 
come 
The hands and feet of justice, — sheriffs, criers, 
And paper-filling scribes; with, at their head, 
Two of the greatest clerks of Christendom 
To plead on either side : Brevarius, 
Who stands for the proceedings "gainst your crown, 
While to your cause Arnolfo is assigned. 

Pharamond. Arnolfo, on whose wit the inspired pilot 
Ever casts anchor in a hurricane ! 
Wolfram, we shall be saved. 

Wolfram. But not by him. 

The law doth wreck, not save. Here, Pharamond, 
Provide this gentleman with an accueil 
Fitting his station ; and, in all that follows, 
Remember we are hosts. 



[71 ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

SCENE SECOND 

The Banquet-Hall 

In the centre of the stage, at the bach, JEgidius sitting 
as judge. Before him a table covered with volumes, 
inkstands, documents, etc. At one end of the table {at 
JEgidius 1 right) sit Arnolfo and his associates; at the 
other end Brevarius and his associates. On JEgidius 
right, and front, but on a lower chair, sits the King, 
and by him stands Hincmar. On the same side, but at 
some distance from the King and nearer the audience, 
sit the Queen and Wolfram, who is dressed with care. 
On JEgidius'' left, and front, is a witness-stand which 
balances King and Hincmar. On the same side, but 
nearer the audience, are Gaston, Elfrida, and Phara- 
mond. The whole disposition is somewhat informal and 
shows its improvised character. The only person in the 
whole play whose dress should be conspicuously hand- 
some is JEgidius. Before speaking, he takes off a jew- 
elled sword and lays it on the table before him. 

^Egidius. King Sigismund, and his much honoured 
queen, 
I greet and thank you both for our reception. 
We may not choose our duties in this life, 
Else had I shuffled this commission off, 
And bade my master find a fitter judge 
Than an old soldier, worn and out of use, 

[72] 



ACT THIRD 

And ignorant of clerkly reasoning, 

Tho' skilled in steely argument of war. 

Such as I am, I do accept the task, 

Feeling it weighty, and myself most weak. 

Pray you believe, King Sigmund and his queen, — 

And you, young sir, who stand in jeopardy, — 

I know no further in this controversy 

Than what the writ reveals. 

(To Clerk.) Read the commission, — 

The phrases which assign the scope of it, — 

Not the whole document. 

Cleric. My lord, you are 

Appointed to take proof and issue judgment 
On all the facts affecting the succession 
Of Wolfram, heir presumptive to the crown. 
JEgidius (to Clerk). Hold the Evangel. {Clerk holds 

the book, a folio. JEgidius rises.) I, ^Egidius, 
Prince Palatine, Imperial Elector, 
Knight of Apollo's Well, and Guardian 
Of the Holy Sepulchre, Count of Antioch, 
Swear to adjudge this cause in innocence, 
Without reward, unmindful of result, 
According to its merits and the light 
Accorded me from Heaven : So help me God. 

(Sits down.) 
[73] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Pharamond {to Gaston). Is't not a paladin! The 
style of Caesar, 
Begemmed with bits of Christian metaphor, 
And all imperial. What a spectacle! 
Were we not moved too deeply to enjoy, 
This were a pictured pageant, stiff with gold 
That needed only music for a frame. 

Gaston. Music that burns in the heart like tears 
unshed! 
See the poor queen. {Goes and stands by the Queen.) 

Brevarius. May it please the court: — 
This is an action issuing from the crown, 
And set on foot by the imperial power, 
Which seeks by inquisition to make sure 
The just succession of King Sigismund. 
The precedents, too numerous to quote, 
Are briefed for reference. If a doubt be raised 
As to the jurisdiction, we do rest 
Upon the queen's appeal of yesterday, 
Which at the emperor's feet throws all her rights. 
Now it so happens that the queen's appeal 
Meets us half-way in a prolonged research 
Through records, documents, and witnesses, — 
The dusty trail of a well-buried past, — 
And crowns the establishment of certain facts 
[74] 



ACT THIRD 

Which make a regency inevitable. 

Your honour will permit me to be brief: — 

{He adjusts his spectacles, shifts papers, etc.) 

Queen {aside). Can the last judgment hold a pain 
like this? 
The callow, almost sacred sins of youth, 
Which I, his wife, forgave, to be dug up, 
Handled, and verified. / dreamed them out, 
And laid them, as I thought, asleep forever. 

Brevarius. We shall establish, may it please the 
court, 
That Sigmund, then crown prince of Minneberg, 
In the year eleven hundred, being then 
Upon a journey to the Holy Land, 
Met in Bavaria at Wittelsbach 
One Eva Adelaide Meisterthaler, — 
Daughter to a burgomaster of the name. 
That the said Eva in the prince's train 
Travelled to Augsburg, where, on Sunday morn, 
The fourteenth day of August, by a priest, 
In the lesser chapel of the Carmelites, 
The twain were married. 

Queen {springing forward). Never married, prince! 

It is the pitiful tale of reckless youth, 

Too common and too sad for scrutiny, 
[75] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Which many a man has worn about his neck, 
And many a woman wept o'er. Must it be 
That I, a woman, bid men play their part 
In weighing at their worth the sins of love, 
Not mousing o'er the grief they leave behind? 

JEgidius. Tore God, a valiant lady ! T is the truth. 
{To Brevarius.) Confine the pleadings to the evidence, 
And let thy words be dry. I '11 not sit here 
To see law^s dogs drag sorrow up and down, 
To make a sport for servants. 

Brevarius. 'T is my aim 

To keep to the bones of the matter; dry they are. 

{Continuing.) Thereafter, in the autumn of the year, 

After — the episode of which I spoke — 

Prince Sigmund's father died, and he returned 

From Germany, was married and was crowned, 

In quick succession; leaving Adelaide, 

Who to a sheltering convent turned her steps, 

And there gave birth, before her own decease, 

To a child, — a boy, so please your excellency — 

Of whom uncertain information lives. 

His disappearance does not prove his death; 

Nay rather, his survival is surmised 

From sundry finger-posts of circumstance. 

What we shall clearly find and plainly prove 
[76] 



ACT THIRD 

Is that upon the seventeenth of May — 
The date of his highness" marriage to the queen — 
Both Adelaide and the aforesaid child 
Were surely living. Witness, take the stand! 
Clerk. Anna Maria Schmiede, take the stand. 

{After some movement among the court officials, a 
very old, little, bent nun is led forward and set upon 
the witness-stand.) 

Jrnolfo (to Brevarius). Your pardon, learned col- 
league, you do prove 
The marriage by this witness, I suppose. 

Brevarius. No, not by her. That will come later on. 
Arnolfo (rising very slowly to his full height, and 
addressing the Court). Your honour will not bid 
me take your time 
With argument to show so plain a thing, — 
That till my friend produce his proofs of marriage, 
All this proceeding is a sorry farce, 
Impertinent, expensive, and most trivial. 
A proof of valid marriage, if produced, 
May make this woman's word of some account; 
But, till produced, I see not that it matters 
What ancient tales she tells. Her majesty 
Has sounded the keynote of this affair, 
And made our labours light. 
[77] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Brevarius. Nay, brother doctor, 

The order in which evidence appears 
Is unimportant, so it all get in. 
T is elementary that we may put 
Our case with such foot forward as we please. 

Arnolfo. Ay, brother jurisconsult, so you may, 
In cases where your suit concerns a cow, 
Bring the beast in tail foremost if you please, 
Shove her in sideways. But in what concerns 
The honour of a kingly family, 
You may not bring in chronicles of vice 
Upon your say-so that some after-proof 
Will make them competent. 

(To the Court.) The proofs of marriage, 
My lord, the proofs of marriage, are his case. 
Let him produce them. 

(Brevarius and his subordinates consult.) 

Pharamond (to Gaston). Did I not say Arnolfo's 
master-grip 
Would throw the rascals? He has frozen them. 
They winter at the pole. Their lips are dry. 
While good iEgidius glows with kindly fire. 
He will sustain Arnolfo. 

JEgidius. Brevarius, 

Till you give proof of this alleged marriage, 



ACT THIRD 
No witness can be heard : I so decide. 

Pharamond {to Wolfram and the Queen). There is 
no proof! 'T is plain, there is no proof. 
Look at Brevarius whose looks disprove 
All proof! Is he not like an angry hound 
That dares not bite? 

Queen {aside). Why did I never dream there was a 

child? 
JEgidius. I see no proof forthcoming; and herewith 
I shall dismiss this most indecent suit, 
Reporting to the emperor my pain, 
Mingled with joy, that I was chosen judge. 
Madam, — 

{A movement among the officials. The King has risen 
and moved forward.) 

Hincmar. My lord, the king would speak. 

King {after one or two efforts in which his lips move 
without producing a sound). I do confess the mar- 
riage. 

{A spontaneous murmur of disgust and reprobation 

runs about the court-room.) 

JEgidius. Order! 
He has not heard aright; or is not sane. 
What dost thou say? 

King. I do confess the marriage. 

[79] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

JEgidius. 'Fore God, thou art a most confounded 
villain ! 
Hadst thou the cruelty to hold thy tongue 
When speaking would have saved one woman's life; 
And now the cruelty to wag thy tongue 
When speaking kills another? Look to the queen. 

(The Queen is hanging between Wolfram and Gas- 
ton, almost in a faint. While continuing to support 
her, Wolfram addresses the Court.) 

Wolfram. Let him go on, my lord; it is a vow. 
This is the breaking of a life-long cloud, 
That blinds us with its downpour of black filth, 
To leave the stars behind. Let him go on! 
Nor are we, in this clap, less ignorant 
Than in the daily blindness of all life. 
I charge me with the safety of the queen. 
I am her son, and know her. Let him speak. 

JEgidius. A son as mad, though in a different vein, 
As his sick father. Youngster, dost thou know — 
Dost thou not understand — that his confession 
Makes thee a bastard? 

Wolfram. Prince iEgidius, 

Thy function here is to adjudicate, 
Not to advise, though wisely. For my birth, 
I care no more if it be base or noble 
[80] 



ACT THIRD 

Than if my mantle rustle in the wind — 
Save as it touch this lady; and for her 
God has his shield. 

Arnolfo {to the Court). I will interrogate 
The doctor on the king's insanity, 
Under the court's instruction. Doctor Hincmar, 
Is the king's malady somewhat of the brain? 

Hincmar. It is, my lord, 't were useless to deny, 
A brain-sick weakness; but I cannot say 
Reaches insanity. He has himself 
Writ and subscribed a competent confession, 
Which, as I understand, he will submit. 

King {handing a document). This is my testimony. 

Arnolfo. We protest! 

Your honour must not take the madman's screed. 

JEgidius. I take it subject to his sanity; 
Which, for the honour that I owe mankind, 
I '11 not believe in. 

{Clerk takes and marks the document.) 

Brevarius. May it please the court: 

The ruling of your lordship as to proof — 
Order of proof I mean — being satisfied, 
We will proceed to call our witnesses. 
Clerk, swear the witness. 

{The Clerk does so in dumb-show.) 

[81 ] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Pharamond {aside). This is a dreadful day of baf- 
fling hopes, 
That wear the spirit to a dead fatigue. 
Can our case rise again from such a blow? 
Yet Wolfram glares in triumph. 

Mgidius. (To Witness.) Speak louder! (To Clerk.) 
What's her name? 

(Makes a memorandum.) 

Clerk. Anna Maria Schmiede, servant at the convent. 

JEgidius. Best repeat her words. 

She is too old, and cannot more than whisper. 

Clerk (listens and repeats in detached phrases). In 
May, 1101, was scrub-woman at the Convent of Saint 
Cyrilla, five miles from Augsburg. On May nineteenth 
Eva Adelaide Meisterthaler came to convent for suc- 
cour and protection; and five days later there gave 
birth to a child, a boy. The woman Adelaide had no 
possessions except a crucifix, before which she prayed 
constantly. The crucifix was marked with her initials 
E. A. M. She died on May thirtieth. On the following 
day both child and crucifix disappeared; as did also 
one of the sisters, Felicia Augusta. No pursuit was 
made. 

(During the following soliloquy of the Queen, the 
taking of testimony proceeds in dumb-show in the 
[82] 



ACT THIRD 

background and absorbs the attention of the other 
persons on the stage.) 

Queen. 'T is sure my husband knew not of its birth. 

{She glances at the King^ who has fallen on his knees.) 
And with it disappeared the crucifix. 
Her cross, her child, — and she his lawful wife! 
O thou poor German girl that died'st alone, 
Holding the key that might have made thee proud, 
And using it to unlock the heart of God, 
Across the years thy spirit beckons me. 
Thy bark was wrecked, thy garden desolate, 
Thy child disherited ; and, in a night, 
Injustice in my form supplanted thee. 
Some women for their child will venture all, 
To press his claim ; but thou, more rich in faith, 
Sendest thy treasure to thine enemy. 
I'll not betray thee! Though my pain be sharp, 
It is but younger sister unto thine. 
Two children were there, — one to be a king, 
And one a castaway. O cruel maid ! 
Thy speechlessness doth call the earthquake up, 
And God hath heard thee. Lo, I lay my boy 
Upon the altar. 

{To Gaston.) Gaston, give me leave: — 
Fetch me thy crucifix. That other maid, 
[83] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

That sent it me, minds me to look on it. 

[Exit Gaston. 
I cannot guess what passes in his mind, 
Which ever seems a mirror to the truth 
First seen by others; yet he must be dull 
If he not feels the surge. 

Enter Gaston. 

Dear Gaston, think — 

But speak not yet. Besides thyself and me, 

Two persons in this room do know this cross, — 

Thy father and the aged sister there. 

I must produce it. Gaston, tell the court 

That I must speak. 

Gaston. The queen, my lord, would speak. 
JEgidius. Let her be heard 

Queen. Pardon, grave sirs, if with the utterance 

Of one too nearly touched to tell her tale, 

I give what all of ye must know at once. 

It is the key and cipher of four lives, 

Delivered to you by the hand of God. 

In my first weeks of marriage with the king 

My servants found before the castle gates 

A cradled ark of osier newly twined, 

Holding in its green arms a smiling boy 
[84] 



ACT THIRD 

And a sad crucifix; with some few words, 
Such as a dying mother might have scratched, 
To supplicate the pity of the world. 
I, in my hope for children of my own, 
Took the newcomer as their messenger; 
Accepted, cherished, loved him as my son, 
Nor ever found he was not more than mine. 
Most of ye know him. — Prince iEgidius, 
This is the crucifix, and this — the child. 

(She sinks into a chair; and soon after breaks into 
uncontrollable sobbing. Amidst the stir which fol- 
lows her announcement she is not greatly noticed, till 
Wolfram addresses her. During her grief Hedwig 
goes and kneels by her side.) 

Wolfram. Thy thunderbolt at last! How comes it 
down, 
In the clear passage of benignant light. 
Was this the thing ye feared? Why, this is joy! — 
The resolution of a thousand ills. 
Gaston, thou art this kingdom's lawful king; 
As thou hast been in all these years a prince, 
And kingly spirit moving in our midst, 
Half known. Some men are made to rule ; 
Ajid these must never isolate their mind, 
But merge it in the sentient soul of all. 

[85] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

So art thou chosen out by Destiny 
To save this state from me. Did I not say 
The whirlwind could resume its upward force, 
Restoring order in those starry depths, 
From which our souls are fed continually 
In the en wheeled motion of the sky? 

Gaston. Ay, thou didst say as much, I make no 
doubt. 

Wolfram. Lo, now the meek inherit, and a child 
Upsets the shrewdest guess of politics. 
The lost maid's legacy doth save us all, — 
The cry of a frail saint whose thread of life 
Was soon and rudely snapped ; yet on her will, 
As on its axis, turns our history. 
Mother, thy Gaston waits to comfort thee. 
We owe him much, but chiefly my release. 
Thou couldst not, mother, make a king of me, 
Nor keep him from his own. We all are planets, 
Which live within each other's influence, 
Controlled, protected, passing to eclipse, 
Or reappearing in the effulgent sun 
Through the same power, which by our apprehension 
Becomes ourself. And if a man will trust it, 
I give him leave to call it what he will, — : 
Love, thought, illusion, destiny, or God. 
[86] 



ACT THIRD 

Gaston, the crown is thine. 

Gaston. I would not take it, were it the crown o' 
the world, 
So springing from the ruin of this house ! Think you, 

my lord, 
I will not follow in adversity 
Those who befriend the outcast? I have had 
The love, the education, all the share 
A child might take beneath his father's roof. 
And if ye fall, I count my share in the loss 
As so much gain. 

Wolfram. Gaston, didst thou not swear, 

If ever God should give the countersign, 
To rip the mask from off the face of life 
And show the features? Thou didst vow thine aid 
In this contingency. And, brother, think you 
Thy share of this inheritance was small 
Even from the beginning? Come, thou art the king. 
Thou art the house, the royal family, 
And all that thou hast taken was thine own. 
(To JEgidius.) Is not this law, my lord, or can his 

will 
Affect his birthright? 

JEgidius. If he be the heir, 

He must inherit. His consent is null. 

[87] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 
Which of us hath consented to be born, 
Or was not unconsenting thrust on life, 
On law, on title, on identity? — 
Which here is all the question. 

Gaston. I am bound. 

Wolfram, I fear I never so can shield thee 
As thou hast shielded me — 

Wolfram. 'Tis not my need; 

But be content. Thou givest me my need, 
And that thou knowest. {To Elfrida, who has come 
forward.) Would'st thou speak to me? 

Elfrida. I have, my lord, a suit; 'tis a petition, 
Long carried in my heart, though something strange, 
And one, perhaps, a maid is slow to press. 
Yet are these happenings so extraordinary 
That my strange conduct suits them: judge yourself. 

Wolfram. Make all petitions to your lawful king, 
Who stands to weigh them. I am servant here, 
And can but introduce you. 

Elfrida. Nay, my lord, 

He has refused me. 

Gaston {to Elfrida). What dost thou begin ? 
Is this the season for an ill-timed jest? 

Wolfram. Nay, let her speak. I do accept the suit, 

[88] 



ACT THIRD 
And promise my assistance with the king. 

Elfrida. My lord, ye all have seen his constancy; 
And know the abnegation in his soul, 
Which even now has glanced a crystal shaft 
Across us all. I will not call it cold, 
But of a superhuman purity, 
Most hard to deal with. 

Gaston. In Heaven's name, Elfrida! 

Wolfram. Gaston, hush! 
Let the petitioner finish. 

Elfrida. Think, my lord, 

What had you done to make him be your king, 
Had not the arm of law been on your side ? 

Wolfram. 'T is true : he is a rebel. But speak on. 

Elfrida. And kingship was a thing he never craved. 

Wolfram. And had he craved it, would have put it 
off 
With twice the resolution to be cross 
And spoil the music. Thou hast fathomed him. 
Elfrida, thou dost understand this man. 

Elfrida. And — Wolfram — me — he wants. 

Wolfram {looks from one to the other). Thou noble 
creature ! Gaston, to your knees, 
And thank the Lord for sending you a wife 

[89] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

So like you, yet with greater brain behind. 

Such virgin power doth stalk about the world; 

But we forget it, till some Deborah 

Makes men look small. My mother, you must add 

Your blessing to the contract. This event 

Much sanctifies the issues of the day, 

And makes them perfect. 

Queen. Gaston and Elfrida, 

I give you both, all that is left in me 
Of blessing and of joy. 

Wolfram (to JEgidixis). My lord, ye judges sit to 
catch the truth. 
Here comes it by the handful. Let your clerks 
Reduce these mysteries to documents, 
And stamp them with the seals of earthly note. 
We thank you for your labour. And, JEgidius, 
I thank you for your kind and noble soul 
That gave truth passage. 

JEgidius. T is indeed 

The immediate work of God, and Him I thank 
That these dim eyes have lived to witness it. 
Old king, embrace thy son. T is something late — 
Yet not too late — to greet thine eldest born. 

{Gaston kneels before the old King-.) 

Wolfram. Father, take heart; it is predestinate, 
[90] 



ACT THIRD 

And should be thus. Thou gavest me thy word, 
And hast performed it. 

King. Hardly do I hold 

The thread of reason. Yet within a mist, 
Following a light, I must one further step, 
Though it exhaust your patience. Noble sir, 

(To ^Egidius.) 
This boy I do acknowledge as my son, 
In such abjection as befits a soul 
Finished with earth. And in your hands I place 
My abdication, late determined on, 
And blessed in the event. 

Arnolfo (to the Court). This falls within 
The scope of your commission. Please the court 
We do accept it. 

Pharamond (aside). Those most cunning knaves 

Who planned the case have overreached themselves. 

This abdication makes the state secure. 

But for themselves remains no punishment? 

(To Wolfram.) 

Wolfram, beseech you, get me the court's ear 

For but two words; that I may tell the plot 

Between this villain Hincmar and the rest, 

And set afoot some vengeance for the crime. 

(During Pharamond's speech Hincmar is seen to 
[91] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

beckon to Martin and then speak to him. Martin has 
quietly slipped out; and Hildebrand, observing him, 
has quietly gone out by another door on the same 
side of the stage.) 

Wolfram. Peace, Pharamond; or else address the 
king. 
But if my counsel shall be sought therein, 
I '11 say we are as much in debt to Satan, 
Being God's agent, as to you or me, 
That helped unroll our story. See you not 
That this magician with his heartless schemes, 
Setting false lights upon a dangerous coast, 
Has brought our ship to shore? I greatly thank him. 
The greatest villains ever go scot-free 
Because men cannot catch them; 'tis a sign 
That we do wrong to punish lesser men. 
'T is not within our duty. Peace, I say. 
This wretch will bring his own destruction on 
Ere we can plot it. 

Enter Hildebrand, dragging in Martin. 

Hildebrand. Help, help, King Gaston! If ye will not 
all be burned in your beds ! This fire-bug will roast 
ye to cinders. 

Gaston. What is it, Hildebrand? 

Hildebrand. I found him setting fire to all parts and 
[92] 



ACT THIRD 

corners of the philosopher's room. Run, some of ye, 
and see that it is out; for the papers were in a bright 
blaze before I could reach him. I did only trample 
them out, and ran back for fear the he devil should 
escape while his black angel was burning ye. 
Gaston. Run, some of you, and put the fire out. 

[Exeunt Servants. 

Hincmar. It is but private rubbish, good my lord. 
I bid the boy destroy it. 

Gaston. Ah, you did ! 

Oswald, arrest the miscreant traitor there 
Who would destroy the proofs of his dark work ; 
And, Otto, run to save each several scrap, 
Which being pieced together and well conned, 
Together with the intercepted note, 
Haply shall form a halter for his neck. 
Why, we forgot thee, miserable man ! 
We thought there was some fire behind thy smoke. 
Now we shall know. 

Pharamond. Long live King Gaston ! 

All. Long live King Gaston ! 

Wolfram. Mother, Prince iEgidius 
Waits to receive new welcome at our hands. 
Friends, comrades, brothers, let us once again 

[93] 



THE MAID'S FORGIVENESS 

Lock hearts together in a long embrace, 
And stand brimful of joy to bless this day 
That brings to each its own, — the land a king, 
The queen a son, and me deliverance. 
Then must I leave you ; for my sail is set, 
My prow is thirsty for the larger sea, 
And tugs the cable. I will drink a cup 
Of Godspeed to you all, reach down the sword 
My father carried in the great Crusade, 
And go to find my kingdom. 



The End 



Tours, January, 1908. 



Note 
This play is designed for a small theatre with 
very simple accessories, and for rapid and natu- 
ral acting, like the acting seen in Italian theatres. 
If the play were to be given in a large theatre or 
elaborately staged, Act I would probably have to 
be divided into two acts by a pause after Scene II. 



OCT 24 1903 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township. PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



3wR 

m 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



015 785 652 2 



I 






TiMt 



■ 



H 




KHH 



ifc ' - i 

'■»■■•■■•. 



